


7. A Hot Bastard and A Bottle of Really Good Scotch

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [7]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4550151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant but really he's a master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information. Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he's been warned to leave the organization and its membership alone. Anything Antony does will only affect outside interests.</p><p>In this log, Antony meets Stephen Amell.</p><p>Warning for general filth, some pain play, mention of boot worship</p>
            </blockquote>





	7. A Hot Bastard and A Bottle of Really Good Scotch

The job went well, everyone's been paid, the merchandise delivered, and Antony's celebrating with a bottle of 18 year old Macallan. He'd intended to find someone to celebrate _with_ but so far, there's no one taking his fancy and a text to Ian had gone unanswered. He's got that itch he gets when everything's finished, when everyone can breathe easy again, that itch that was tension during the job, just the right amount to keep him on top of everything but now is just a niggling at the nape of his neck, a too-heavy weight on his shoulders. Fuck. He downs what's left of his glass and pours another, raising it to toast the bartender who gives him a knowing smile.

Stephen, is on edge, how can he not be? He's at a fucking secret sex club. The concept of a place where celebrities can come and get their rocks off, however bizarrely done, is one he's still struggling to get his head around. Indeed he's spent a whole evening just trawling through the membership list when his had been approved, his eyes on stalks as he read name after name he recognised. Even the orientation tour he'd taken the week before hadn't made any of this less surreal. So here he is, having spent an hour trying to figure out what the fuck to wear - standing in the door of the bar and steeling himself to go in. His reason for being here is simple, he'd been told in no uncertain terms he was not to go back out to his usual haunts to get his kink fix, a close shave; a data card retrieved and a cash payoff had been too much for his PR people. 

And Stephen? Has the itch. It's been weeks since he got to be on his knees and he's getting pissy with the lack of it. A deep breath and he strides in, looking hugely more confident than he feels. _I can do this...this is easy, you know the drill, you know how this goes...just roll in, grab a drink, hang out, get the vibe..._

With so many people coming and going and the floor show -- a domme fucking her boy with the handle of a crop -- actually not a bad one, Antony barely notices when the newcomer enters, his gaze briefly flickering to the entranceway before the sight really registers and he takes another look. Another _long_ look, shifting slightly on his stool.

 _Well fuck..._ The fact there are small scenes going on around him actually makes Stephen relax a little, he's used to that, used to seeing it in the clubs and parties he's attended in the past, this he can get his head around. So he heads to the bar, a smile on his face, one eye on a couple getting their freak on over in the corner. "Beer, whatever you got on tap," he turns his smile on the barman. "Thanks."

"Busy tonight, isn't it?" Antony says, watching the guy, a small smile curving his lips as the bartender gives him another knowing look.

It takes a moment before Stephen realises the words were addressed to him. "I'm sorry?" He gives his head a little shake and turns a smile on the man beside him. _Nice eyes dude..._ "I missed that."

"I was saying it's busy tonight," Antony repeats, careful to enunciate, well aware he still has most of his accent even after years spent away from home. "You're Canadian," he guesses.

Stephen blinks, "Huh, yeah I am." He grins. "And you're not American," he returns. "Aussie or Kiwi?" He's not smart enough on accents to pick up the differences. 

"Kiwi," Antony says, grinning back. "Transplanted." He holds out his hand. "I'm Antony."

"Stephen." He takes the other mans hand and it's a good firm shake. "And I have no idea if this is busy or not, this is my first visit here, beyond the grand tour I got last week." 

"Really?" Antony resists the urge to lick his lips, reaching for the bottle of Macallan. "You want one?" He nods for the bartender to set up another glass. "Are you new to the scene or just the club?"

The offer of the scotch is welcome, and it's _nice_ stuff. "Yeah thanks," he leans up the bar. "Not the scene, been doing that for a good few years now, but this," he waves his hand around, "is a very new head fuck."

Antony nods. "Yeah, it is," he agrees, remembering his own introduction to the whole organization. "You're an actor?" He's guessing again but everything about this guy is pinging actor or model. Plus, hell, it's L.A.

"Isn't every other fucker in here?" Stephen rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I am." He shrugs. "Hence my PR people sending me here with a warning that under no circumstances was I to get my kink on anywhere else ever again, thank you very much, or there'd be fucking hell to pay." He pulls a face. "But hey, better than being told to fucking stop altogether, right?"

"Definitely," Antony agrees with a small chuckle, watching the other man closely, still not entirely sure of the vibe he's getting from him. Which is weird. Antony's used to being able to pin people down instantly. "So, before your ass was sent in here by your PR folk, what were you doing that they don't want you doing anymore?"

Stephen looks up as if trying to recall something. "Let me see, I think the words were 'being a filthy perverted freak'," he grins, not willing to offer up just yet where he stands in the food chain, even though it's obvious that's the information Antony is fishing for. 

Antony laughs. "Yeah, well, you're in good company now." Shifting hard as the boy who was being fucked by his domme earlier comes with a scream.

Stephen throws a look over at where the noise came from and shows barely a flicker of interest. "So...Mr Very Nice Scotch...you're clearly _not_ new and I'm having you marked as a top, if not full on Dominant," he narrows his eyes. "Obviously homo, possibly with a touch of traditional about you..." 

Antony gives a nod, taking another sip of his scotch. "Bi, but otherwise you're doing well. Full-on dominant."

Stephen presses his lips together and gives a nod. "Bi, huh, my radar's off." He sips the amber liquid in the pretty cut glass and hums appreciatively. "Okay...dominant is good," he gives Antony a wink here. 

"Glad to hear it," Antony murmurs, eyes dancing. "You want to keep guessing? Or tell me what _you're_ looking for?"

"Oh I'm not divulging _that_ info just like that, where's the fun huh?" He grins. "Nice try though." Stephen leans in and taps his chin with one finger. "You've got a sadistic streak, not sure if that's your main kick. Hands on, not a flog and tickle guy."

Antony's impressed. "Keep going. If you can," he adds, the words a definite challenge.

"You like a challenge, a guy with some balls to front up to you, I'm guessing you like it rough...." Stephen laughs. "And that is me done, anymore and I _will_ be giving you info because I'm going to be hoping you like what I like," he quirks a brow over the rim of the glass. 

"We could find out," Antony says, holding up a keycard, his jeans already tighter than before, already hard from just listening to the other man talk, watching that beautiful face. 

_Holy Shit! Did I just?...Just like that?..._ Stephen rocks back on his heels a little. "Remember that part when I said I was new here?" he nods at the key card. "Is this how it works? People just go get rooms and do whatever?" Because yeah, he's not about to run off to a room with a complete stranger. 

Antony nods. "Usually. We all filled out the same paperwork, did the same psych tests," he says with a smile. "And you wouldn't believe the security system." He should know. He helped set the whole thing up. "But if you're not sure, we can talk some more or play out here."

Stephen considers that, and yeah, he forgets it is inherently different in here, he is safe, as safe as he could possibly be. Even after years on the scene he still has to keep an eye out for the wanna be doms who are clueless and dangerous. Instead he nods at the bottle of scotch. "We takin' that with us eh?" 

"Yeah." Antony nods, stepping off his stool, his wallet pulled out and a few bills slid across the bar to the man behind it. "For after," he says, grabbing the bottle as well as his glass, flashing a grin over his shoulder at Stephen as he heads for the lifts. "You want to give me your safeword and let me know what's _not_ on the table?"

 _Well fuck!_ Stephen follows along quite happily, his own glass still clutched in his palm. "Traffic lights work for me," he offers. But still doesn't spill what he's looking for. Not out here. Not yet. 

"Okay. Mine's Wellington," Antony offers in return, amused. And people think _he's_ close-mouthed. "Where I was born." He pokes the button for the lift. "I've been to Canada a couple of times. Where are you from?"

"Toronto." That's easy enough info to give out. "You're pretty hot with the accent, it usually takes non natives a while to pick it up." He leans against the wall, eyes on Antony. "Whilst I appreciate the attention, and the scotch, I'm trying to figure out why you're so confident that I'm gonna be of interest to you." 

Antony smiles. "When you were assessing me, it all fit in with what you wanted me to be. Not that you weren't right, but if it hadn't been what you were looking for, you would have read me differently or not as confidently. And you would've reacted differently in the first place to me if you weren't looking for someone to put you on your knees."

And doesn't that just tell Stephen a lot about the man in front of him. It also gives him a fucking mental hard on. _Smart, fucking smart._

"Homo, submissive, masochist. Hard kinks are rough smack down sex, boot worship, military role play, sexual service and objectification. Not big on rope, bring out panties and a dress and I'll tell you to fuck off, ask me to call you Daddy and I'll never be able to take you seriously ever again. I've been owned and trained, I know my shit, and I don't take any."

"Good." The lift dings and the doors open, Antony stepping on and leaning against the wall across from Stephen. "If I wanted someone in a dress, I'd pick up a woman and if I wanted someone to call me Daddy, I'd have some fucking kids. I do, however, like to call my partners names and tell them what filthy sluts they are. Cunts. Pussies. Fucktoys."

Stephen's blue eyes darken at that. "Works for me," he agrees. "I left off physical and verbal humiliation, we're on the same page there," he licks over his bottom lip. "I like a clear cue to start and finish a scene, my head space can be pretty full on, it helps. I'm assuming Sir works for you?"

Antony nods, pushing off the wall as the lift comes to a stop. "Do you have a cue you're used to using?" he asks, leading the way down the hall.

"No, whatever works for you, so long as it's clear." Stephen gives himself a mental shake. He hadn't expected this tonight, it's a pleasant surprise however. "Just so you're clear. No lasting marks tonight, and leave my face alone."

"No bruises at all?" Antony clarifies, stopping in front of their room.

"Beyond what I can pass off as a fall down the stairs at my house," Stephen grins with a shrug. "Sorry, filming schedule is tight at the moment, not my preference."

"No problem. I'm sure I can work around it," Antony says, opening the door and motioning Stephen inside. "You mind being called boy?"

"No, not at all." Stephen steps into the room and he's all eyes. Sure some of the rooms were on the tour, but it had been made clear that the club has numerous types of room, all equipped differently, so he's bugging to see what Antony had chosen. 

"I wasn't planning on getting into anything too heavy tonight," Antony tells him, flicking on the lights to reveal a room that doesn't look that different from a normal hotel room, with the exception of the expanse of space where normally a sitting area might be, the floor there covered with thick mats, the wall lined with cabinets, sturdy hooks hanging from the ceiling, a spanking bench against one wall. "But they have all sorts of rooms, and they can make arrangements for some really detailed roleplays."

Stephen shakes his head and laughs, stepping in to spin around taking it all in. "You know what? I think I'm going to fucking _love_ this place," he announces. "Seriously, I'm in love," he nods bringing his gaze back to Antony. "S'like a fucking perverts wet dream eh?"

"Definitely." Antony grins, Stephen's enthusiasm infectious. It's been a while since he's seen this place through fresh eyes. He sets the scotch on the desk and takes one last drink before placing his glass beside it. "I'll confess. I'm still thinking about that cue thing. Are you good with something verbal - you know, start scene, end scene, me using your name - or do you need something physical?"

"Verbal's good, it's more the thing at the end, needs to be crystal clear to get through ya know?" Stephen shrugs and steps up to set his glass beside Antony's. "Just gimme a 'kneel boy' and a hand on my shoulder to get me down, and my name should be enough to pull me back up, you'll figure it out." He tips his head. "You're gonna fuck me though yeah? S'not just a scene?"

"No." Antony smiles, eyes dancing again. "I'm most certainly gonna fuck you," he promises, wrapping a hand around the back of Stephen's neck and reeling him in for a kiss, his mouth hot and hard.

Stephen would have done a mental fist pump had he had the time to process. But before he gets the chance Antony's jerked him in, pulling him close and kissing him. _Hell to the fucking...thank you which ever deity I need...whoa..._ His brain skids to a halt and his body takes over. 

Antony backs him up against the door, licking deeper into his mouth, biting at his lips, his thigh between the other man's legs, his own erection pressed against him, aching already. Christ.

Stephen? Giving as good as he gets, he's not been put down yet so he's showing no deference whatsoever, and his hands are up, sliding over Antony's torso, mapping him out, getting a measure of just _how much_ muscle there is beneath his green shirt. And talking of muscle.... he tears his mouth away, a little breathless, one brow raised in query. "Seriously? Is that your fucking dick?" Because...fuck, there's a lot more pressed to his hip than he was expecting. 

Antony grins. "Think you can handle me?" he teases, unable to resist.

Stephen snorts, reaches between them and cops himself a good feel. A very _thorough_ feel. "You know, I think I might just like to try," he drawls back with a grin. "Might be a fight, but that's all good. Right?"

Antony groans at being groped. Fuck. "Fantastic," he agrees, kissing Stephen once more before taking a step back. "I want you to undress for me," he says. "Put your clothes on the chair and kneel at the front of the middle mat."

Stephen pushes up from the door and inclines his head to show he's heard and understood. He heads toward a chair where he removes his clothing, folding it up neatly as he goes. Once he's naked, he steps up to the mat where Antony had indicated, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and as he lets it go he sinks to knees, back straight, hands resting on his thighs, his head level, eyes front. Perfect presentation. 

Owned and trained and it shows, Antony thinks, taking a good long look at the man on his knees. "Very nice," he murmurs, touching the toe of his boot to Stephen's cock. "This too."

There's a little up beat in Stephen's heart rate at the touch of a leather clad boot to his dick. Boots... _Hell yes, thank you!_. He blinks, his gaze flicks up to Antony's and he responds with a soft, "Thank you Sir." 

"You're welcome," Antony murmurs, shifting forward a little so he can slide the blunt toe of that same boot along the length of Stephen's erection. "Like that, do you, boy?"

"Yes Sir I do." And Stephen doesn't hide the shudder of pleasure, why should he? Antony deserved to see it. "Boots, boot worship, cast iron kink Sir." 

Antony grins. "So, if I said you could only have your mouth on my boots or my cock, which would it be?"

 _Well...fuck,_ Stephen actually has to think about that. "That's a tough choice Sir," he admits softly, and he looks down to the boots on offer. They aren't his 'perfect' boot, even if they are leather, heavy, worn. He takes a breath. "Your cock, Sir." 

"And you think your mouth is good enough for my cock?" Antony says, pressing the toe of his boot more firmly against Stephen's erection.

Stephen's eyes slip shut for a moment, his cock twitches hard. _Oh fuck yes!_ then he licks over his bottom lip, and opens his eyes. "I don't believe that is my call Sir, my worthiness is within your judgement."

"Good answer," Antony says, watching Stephen for a long moment before he pulls his boot back and unzips his jeans, freeing his cock with a sigh of relief. "Go ahead, boy. Impress me."

 _Well Hello!!!_ Stephen's eyes widen a little. He's seen plenty of cock in his time, but he can count on the fingers of one hand the number of dicks he's seen that are even in the same league as this beauty. Uncut too. "You were surely blessed Sir," he murmurs as he leans in, and opens his mouth, sucking in the crown, getting a taste, before he starts to take more, inching his way down, feeling the stretch of his lips around the thick shaft. 

Oh, fuck. "That's it," Antony breathes, head going back a little before he refocuses his gaze on Stephen's mouth. "Show me how much you want this." It's already good, damn good, but Antony's not about to stroke the other man's ego. Not yet.

Stephen finds pretty quickly that he has to adjust his technique a little, because _damn_ that's a lot of cock in his mouth. Even so he sets about his task with pleasure and enthusiasm, humming at the throb of the thick flesh on his tongue. 

Groaning roughly, Antony slides his hand over the back of Stephen's head, cupping the nape of his neck as he pushes forward a little, testing the other man's reaction.

There's a little resistance, after all there was no warning, but Stephen manages to take it, tilting his head a little to adjust the angle, his fingers digging into the flesh on his thighs and his dick throbbing heavy and hard between his thighs. 

"Good boy, that's it," Antony urges, pushing a little deeper, his eyes locked on Stephen's face. Christ, the man's beautiful. He wouldn't normally use the word to describe someone so masculine but it fits here. "Show me you can take it all."

The 'good boy' warms Stephen, it's been a while since he's been called that and it soothes him, settles something in his head that's been out of place and jarring for weeks. He works Antony's cock even as the saliva spills from the corner of his mouth, down over his chin - he ignores it - head bobbing back and forth. 

Antony curses under his breath, his cock throbbing in Stephen's throat, his balls starting to draw up. He tightens his grip on the back of Stephen's neck, thrusting in a little harder, once, twice and again, testing just how much he can take, which turns out to be a lot. Fuck. All of it combining to finally send him over with a low groan, his cock spurting hot and thick.

Gurgling around the cum in his throat Stephen has to quell his instinctive urge to pull back and struggle, he stills, letting Antony finish, breathing slowly through his nose, and only when that hold loosens does he swallow. Some of it spills from the corner of his mouth but he doesn't pull back, letting Antony withdraw only when he's good and ready. 

"Not bad," Antony murmurs, slowly easing out. "Not bad at all." He tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping them up again. "Of course, I promised I'd fuck you... guess I'll have to come up with something for us to do until I'm ready." The look in his eyes making it clear he's already decided _exactly_ what they'll be doing.

Stephen licks over his lips, hoping to capture the last of the cum that escaped, his eyes on Antony as the guy tucks away that fucking _epic_ dick. Just the thought of it fucking his ass has his hole twitching in anticipation. "Thank you Sir," he returns in exchange for the almost praise. And then he can't, won't, stop the corner of his mouth curving up in response to the rest. "I'm sure Sir is as inventive as he is endowed," he murmurs inclining his head a little. 

"We'll see about that," Antony says with a smile, stepping around Stephen and heading for the cabinets. It doesn't take long to find what he wants. A nice thick dildo with a suction cup base. A handful of smooth broad tip clamps. A small tub of lube.

Once Antony is out of his field of vision Stephen closes his eyes. He uses those moments to savour his arousal, how is body is thrumming with want, the taste of cum on his tongue, the mild ache in his throat, the heavy throb of his erection. He's not in head space yet, but it really won't take much to nudge him over into that blissful place. This is good. Fucking good. 

His attention is pulled back to what is occurring around him when he hears a cupboard door snick shut and he tenses, realigning his posture the mere millimeters it had slipped. 

Placing the stuff on the floor by Stephen's feet, Antony crouches down behind him. "Kneel up," he orders, opening the lube and slicking his fingers.

Stephen is trying to figure out what's going on behind his back from the noises Antony is making, but he doesn't turn his head, break his posture, or ask any questions, he simply obeys the order. Rising up onto his knees and off his heels. 

Slipping two slicked fingers between Stephen's cheeks, Antony rubs them over and around his hole, resisting the urge to push in at all.

That tease, the promise of more to come has goosebumps blossoming over Stephen's arms and torso, he bites his bottom lip and lets a soft needy noise spill from his throat. 

There. That's what Antony wants. Craves. That sound, those noises. They're like fuel to the fire. He pushes his fingers in, to the first knuckle, fucking them in and out, letting Stephen have some of what he wants but not enough. Not nearly.

Stephen presses his fingertips into his thighs at the penetration. Eyes closing, his mouth falls open and he starts making little breathy noises, non verbal begging. _More...please...more..._

"You like that, boy?" Antony says, pushing his fingers deeper, working Stephen open, a third added when the first bit of resistance eases.

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir." Stephen's voice has dropped, become low and a little rough. He's now fighting to keep still, he's not been given leave to move and he'll try and maintain his posture for as long as he's able or until given leave to do otherwise. 

"Good." Antony thrusts his fingers in and out a few more times before abruptly pulling them out.

The loss of Antony's fingers is sudden, and a little disorientating. Stephen sucks in a breath, holds it, bracing himself for what ever might be next, his brow a little furrowed. His cock...fucking aching. 

Affixing the base of the dildo to the mat behind Stephen, Antony slicks it with another layer of lube. He places a hand on the other man's shoulder, guiding him into a lean that has the thick bulbous tip pressed against his hole. "I want you to stay like this as long as you can," he orders. "The more of it you have left, the more likely it is that I'll let you come."

 _You bastard!_ Stephen shuffles his feet back and forth to use their placement as a point to brace against his weight. When he finds the right spot he stills, and simply alters the tension in his back. He's not technically broken his posture, more that he's realigned his body weight. The urge to please, the ingrained need to obey, and Stephen's desire to be allowed to orgasm at some point in the evening are all incentive enough for him to be doing exactly as Antony has directed. 

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, giving the adjustment his approval. Straightening up, he moves to face Stephen, crouching down in front of him again. "Now I just have to decide where I want to put these," he says, a handful of clamps dumped in a small pile between them.

Stephen's gaze drops to what Antony has set between them, then back up to that wicked, handsome face. "You spoil me, Sir," he murmurs with a wry smile. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course," Antony says, picking up the first clamp. "Go ahead."

"If I slip into third person, will that be a problem? I know some Dominants find it disconcerting." What Stephen doesn't say is that there are not many men he's played with that trip that particular urge in him. But there it is. _Just go with it...he's good..._

Antony smiles. "I don't mind at all." The last thing he wants is Stephen struggling to censor himself during their scene.

Stephen inclines his head in acknowledgment. "This boy thanks you Sir," he murmurs, and with that concern dealt with he returns his attention to the situation his body is in. The head of the dildo _may_ have slid in a little, millimeters no more, and his cock _may_ be dripping a slow beading of precum on the floor beneath him and his body may just be trembling very slightly in tense need. 

Reaching out, Antony runs his hand over Stephen's chest and stomach, feeling the hard muscle beneath the smooth skin, his fingers trailing, dipping, dangerously close to the other man's cock. He swipes the pad of one finger over the tip, scooping up a bead of precum and licking it from his finger with a soft moan.

And right there, all the thoughts that had been crowding Stephen's head, the whys and wherefores of how he got here, and what Antony might do...all slide away. Now his entire focus is on the man before him, his pupils dilate, his breath becomes more shallow. The sweep of those hands grounds and arouses him in turn, and then...the visual of this dominant man tasting, and enjoying his body's sexual offering is just...fucking hot. 

Antony rubs his fingers over Stephen's right nipple, rolling and pinching and tweaking it until it's a rigid nub he can place the first clamp on. Nice and tight but without any teeth that might bruise or leave marks when he's done. 

The initial bite of the clamp has Stephen sucking in a quick breath, which he then releases slowly, between clenched teeth. He blinks, and then has to fight the slight rocking on his knees, which if he permitted, would impale him further on the dildo that's pushing between his ass cheeks. "Thank you Sir," he murmurs. 

"You're very welcome," Antony replies, repeating the same steps with the other nipple, the clamp released into place. "You look good like this." His hand sliding over Stephen's chest, jarring the pins as it goes, then dropping downward again. "Of course, I have so many of these left..." Stroking his fingers along the insides of Stephen's thighs, the back of his hand brushing against the man's cock.

Stephen gives a full body shudder at that light caress, his entire body is taut with restrained need and want; the need to move, the _want_ to sink down on that toy, the need to find some more stimulation, the _want_ to beg for more touch...please...

"This..." Stephen's voice is strained and low, "this boy's body is yours to amuse yourself Sir." Of course Antony doesn't need that 'permission', it's already been handed over and accepted, but Stephen needed to verbalise it, for himself. 

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Antony says, picking up a few more clamps, two placed in rapid succession along the inside of Stephen's left thigh. "Because I'm just getting started."

Now those fucking _hurt_ , the pinch is hard and Stephen makes a little yelp of pain at each one. There's a dull throb, a pulse, pulse of blood at each of his nipples, which match the ache in his groin. The only pleasurable counterpoint is the subtle push and rub of the toy at his ass. 

Cock twitching violently at those yelps, Antony seeks out more, fastening two more clips to the other thigh, his hand, now empty, wrapping itself around Stephen's balls. "What about here?" he says, although it's not really a question. Not really a _choice_.

"If...if that is what...Sir...wants," Stephen demurs, his voice stuttered as he starts to shake, the strain of keeping himself in position, to _not_ slide down that faux cock that's pressed to his twitching hole, is starting to show. Sweat is beading on his skin, and his fingers press deeper into his thighs, his nails carving crescents in the skin there. 

"It is," Antony says, a small smile curving his lips as he places a clamp right in the middle of Stephen's sac.

Stephen cries out, his head dropping back, mouth open, eyes closed. "Oh...f..f...." he bites off the expletive. "Th...than..k you, S...S..Sir," he hisses out between clenched teeth. There's a scale of discomfort now. The clamps on his nipples are fucking painful, those on his thighs are uncomfortable, the one on his balls...fucking _ouch_!

"Hm. I have two more," Antony says, his cock ragingly hard again, such pleasure taken in Stephen's pain. "Now where should they go?" His hand wrapped around Stephen's cock, stroking slowly but surely. 

Swallowing hard, Stephen rolls his head forward to look at Antony, to drink in that sadistic joy that's writ plain on the other man's face. There's an almost urge to say no, to _beg_ 'no, please, no' but his dick kicks up in Antony's hand and spills a burst of precum over his fingers - and that's all the answer there is to give. 

Antony grins, the expression dark and wicked. Pulls up the skin along the top of Stephen's cock, pinching it into a decent-size fold, then snaps the first clamp into place.

In that moment there is only pain. A hot wicked burst that narrows Stephen's vision, that steals his breath and that makes him cry out a choked off noise. And finally, he breaks posture, shoulders drop forward and his head dips, chin to chest. _breathe, breathe through it...show him how good you are.._ What seems like eons later, but is actually less than 30 seconds, he sucks in a deep breath and pulls himself back into alignment. He misjudges a little, and finds the dildo sinking further into his ass. 

"Careful, boy," Antony warns, watching the shift, although truth be told, he's so fucking impressed. Not that he'll tell Stephen that. Not yet anyway. "Last one," he says, holding the clamp up while he grips Stephen's cock, just behind the head, thumb rubbing over the slit, smearing precome.

This time Stephen bites on his bottom lip. Hoping it will center him enough he will stay up and off the dildo, when the pain comes his hips snap up, and he bites down so hard, he breaks skin. His breath is harsh and noisy in his throat. "Pl.....please..." he begs as a trickle of blood runs down his chin. 

Fuck. Antony's mesmerized by that trickle, his hand still tight around Stephen's cock, the last clamp placed directly onto the head. "Please what, boy?" he murmurs.

"I...I..." Stephen gives up, his entire body is shaking now, pain, pleasure, intermingled with head space. He doesn't even care about the dildo, so long as he stays upright and on his knees. He simply stares, wide eyed and blissed out into Antony's face. 

"Christ, you're beautiful," Antony murmurs, wrapping his free hand around the back of Stephen's neck again and kissing him, the taste of copper on his tongue drawing a low groan, his cock jerking violently against his zipper.

Stephen responds automatically, his lips parting, his tongue sliding against Antony's, his eyes don't close however, but he returns the kiss with equal fervor, leaning in, humming greedily. 

Licking his lips, Antony finally draws back, watching Stephen closely for a moment before he warns, "Brace yourself, boy," and uses his thumb and forefinger to snap off the last clamp he placed.

Stephen's shout echoes off the walls, his breathing is ragged when it tails off. The pain is exquisite, all consuming. Stephen rocks on his heels, taking the dildo a little more. 

"You're not careful, boy, you won't be coming tonight," Antony says, snapping the second clamp from Stephen's cock. "Not like this, and not with my cock in your ass."

And doesn't that refocus Stephen's attention, that and the slightly censorious tone to Antony's voice. As soon as he's recovered from wave of pain from the removal of the second clamp, he pulls himself back upright. "Thank you Sir," he croaks out. 

"You're welcome. Now I can make this fast or I can take it slow. Your choice, boy," Antony says, running his fingers over the clamps on the inside of Stephen's thighs, teasing the one on his balls.

"Quickly, please," Stephen slurs, licking his bottom lip he tastes the blood still welling there, the small bitecut had been agitated by the kiss. His fingers shuffle on his thighs, looking for new flesh to hook into as he braces himself. 

One, two, three, four, five. Off they come. The ones on Stephen's thighs followed by the one dividing his balls, Antony's hands sure and quick.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ The litany rolls around Stephen's brain, his physical response is loud, awkward as he fights to not lose his shit as the pain ramps up to a crescendo of agony. And then there's a pause, just the clamps on his nipples left, the ones that have been in place the longest. One more deep breath, one more moment of steeling himself against the bright noise of the pain. 

"Last two," Antony tells him, moving in closer. "Make me proud," he murmurs, removing them both at the same time, the final step before the boy gets his reward. Before they both do.

For a moment, longer even, there is nothing except the raging agony of his nipples as the blood flows back, the nerves come back to life and he shouts out, loud, indignant, the noise tailing off as the pain settles down to something manageable, to a point where Stephen can even remember to _breathe_. 

"Good boy," Antony says, rocking to his feet and standing over Stephen for a moment before he moves behind him. There's no question the dildo's deeper than it was, but Antony's impressed Stephen's managed as well as he has. Most wouldn't have. "Go ahead. Take it in now," he says, nudging his boot against the base. "I want to see you fuck yourself."

There's a heartbeat, a moment where Stephen has to process that, to make sure he heard the permission right, and when he's sure, certain, he slowly drops down, taking the whole thing in. This time, the sound that he makes is one of pleasure as he angles his hips _just_ so. "Thank you Sir...this boy thanks you," he murmurs as he bottoms out. 

"My pleasure," Antony responds, watching, his cock throbbing, aching almost painfully. "Harder. I want you close."

Shuffling his knees further apart, gives Stephen not only better leverage, but affords Antony a better view. Leaning forward a little Stephen starts to move, pulling up and then slamming down, the dildo stroking over his prostate with each stroke. Soft moans of pleasure spill out of his mouth, getting more and more urgent the closer Stephen gets, his cock dripping precum in a steady stream. "Sir...close, Sir."

"Good. You can stop," Antony tells him. "Lift off and lean forward. Hands and knees." Already unbuttoning his shirt, his jeans dropped to the floor.

Leaning forward, Stephen's thankful for the chance to change his posture, to give his body a stretch, he arches back, presenting his ass, hopeful now that he'll get fucked, fucked by that fucking fat cock. 

Giving himself a few strokes, his cock aching after being confined, Antony rolls on a condom, slicks it with a little more lube and kneels down behind Stephen, his hands going to the other man's ass, spreading his cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes locked on that still-gaping hole. He shifts, lining up and pushing forward, the blunt head pushed through that first still-tight ring of muscle.

This Stephen can deal with, it's uncomfortable, but he knew it would be the moment he got a measure of how large the other man was, but it's manageable compared to the pain he'd been in minutes ago. He bares down, restrains himself from pushing back and lets out a long low moan. 

Stephen feels incredible. Hot and tight. Fuck. Antony grits his teeth, pushing deep and still deeper until he bottoms out, rocking his hips to get that last fraction of an inch.

"F...fuck." Stephen can't help himself, the stretch is harsh, but it feels so fucking good. His head hangs down now, all thought of posture or presentation long gone. He rocks on his hands, meeting each of those mini thrusts of Antony's. 

Antony groans, his head falling back as he pulls out and sinks deep again, cock pulsing with the tight velvet heat of the body clenched around him. "So fucking good," he murmurs, running his hands over Stephen's ass. "So fucking good for me."

The words roll over Stephen, feeding his submissive need to please. This guy seriously knows what he's doing, first off he's a first class dominant, and now...a seriously hot fuck. "Fuck me harder Sir, use this boy..." he rumbles out, breathily. 

Taking Stephen at his word, Antony drives in harder, wrapping his hands around the other man's shoulders and pulling him back onto his cock again and again. Faster. Harder. So fucking deep his teeth ache with it. Fucking Stephen with everything he's got.

 _Jesus fuck..._ Stephen's very breath is being pounded out of him, it feels like Antony is trying to fuck his way in to Stephen's own skin, his hands and knees skid on the mat and Stephen's beginning to think he's not going to be able to hold on to his orgasm until he's given permission. 

A few more thrusts and Antony's right there, that desperate need for release flushing through him, his balls drawing up tight. He drops a hand under Stephen, wrapping it around his cock and strokes, matching his thrusts, a growled, "Come, boy," the only warning the man's getting.

Those are the sweetest words Stephen's sure he's ever heard, and his body responds without conscious thought, hips stuttering hard as he spasms, cum shooting over Antony's hand, spilling onto the floor. He growls out his pleasure as his hole contracts around the hard steel of the other man's cock. 

"Oh, fuck," Antony grits out, hips snapping against Stephen's ass before he stills with a shout, his cock pulsing hotly over and over, emptying his load into the latex between them.

Stephen? Is done. His head hangs down between his arms, his breath ragged. But for him, his head space will remain, until his dominant partner willfully pulls him out of it. It's part instinct and part training. 

Easing out, Antony leans back for a moment, catching his breath, his hands still on Stephen's hips, thumbs moving in small circles over his skin. "Good boy," he murmurs. "Let's get you into bed."

The touch is soothing, the praise warms him and Stephen pushes up back onto his knees, back into a slightly less than perfect kneeling position. "Sir? May this boy have water?" he asks his voice raw, throaty. 

"Of course. Come on," Antony says, helping Stephen to his feet and over to the bed. He opens up the mini-fridge and pulls out two bottles of cold water, cracking one open and handing it to Stephen before opening the other for himself. He sits on the edge of the bed, smiling over at the other man. "End scene. You can relax, Stephen."

Stephen takes the water, and at Antony's words he visibly relaxes, his eyes slide shut for a moment of stillness and when he opens them he's clearly more present. "Thanks," he lifts the bottle in salute before knocking back half of it in one long pull, he pauses, wipes the back of his mouth on his hand and then drains the rest. "Fuck me," he rumbles. "I needed that."

"The water?" Antony grins, unable to resist.

Stephen's eyes cut up and he grins. "Both, fucking both," he nods. 

"Been a while?" Antony asks, taking a long sip from his own bottle. "Or just shit going on?"

"It's only been about 6 weeks, but..." Stephen stops, reshuffles himself on the bed and leans against the headboard. "Been a while since I played with someone as good as you, fucking pushed my buttons man," he grins, looking very pleased with himself. 

Antony grins back. "Glad to hear it," he says. "You were pretty damned incredible yourself. Your training definitely shows."

"Yeah?" Stephen pauses to savor that particular piece of praise. "That means a lot, actually, my ex would be proud," he beams at Antony, and starts to scoot off the bed in search of more water. 

"Sit back," Antony tells him, crouching in front of the mini-fridge to hand Stephen another bottle. "Let me take care of you." He smiles and moves up the bed, settling in beside the other man. "How long were you owned for? If you don't mind me asking." 

"Nearly 18 months, I was his playmate before that, and I'd had an informal thing with someone before that too," Stephen offers up. "Old school types, they liked me more formal, with some structured training. It was good, it worked for me and the type of head space I get. I was a lucky guy." He opens the water and takes a more measured drink. 

"Was he an actor as well?" Antony asks.

Stephen laughs, "Oh hell no, he'd be vastly amused at that. No, no he was a business man, advertising. Good guy, great dominant." He nods as he remembers their time together. "We parted ways about a year ago, I've been foot loose and fancy free since. Getting to try new things...new men," he grins wickedly at that. "Some more blessed than others," he winks. 

Antony laughs. "New things, new men... does that mean you don't do repeats?" It's been a while since he's met someone at Citadel who could handle him as well as Stephen, a long while.

"Not allowed to, am I? Not allowed back to my old haunts," Stephen raises a shoulder in a shrug. "And this is my first visit here," he looks around the room, that look of 'this is fucking wow' back in his eyes. 

"Yeah, well, that was my clumsy way of saying I'd like to see you again. If you're interested. Which I probably should have just come out with," Antony says, amused. He's not usually one to skirt around anything.

Now _that_ has Stephen's attention. "You would?" He blinks, then the grin is back. "Fuck yeah, hell yeah," he nods. "Like I said, you're a fucking good dominant, and that dick?" He nods down at Antony's junk. "Fucking beautiful."

Laughing, Antony just shakes his head. "Thanks." It's not the first time he's heard that but he likes Stephen's way of expressing it. "I'm in the directory but I'll give you my home and mobile."

"Cool, thanks," Stephen lets out a sigh, the only indication that he's tired. "So how often do you like to get your freak on then? And..." he turns to Antony. "Don't you have regular playmates or a significant other or something?" he asks, interested. 

"I have a couple people I play with here and there," Antony says, setting his empty bottle of water on the night table, "but there's no one serious. My job means I travel a lot and sometimes at the drop of a hat so," he pauses, shrugging, thinking of the few times he's tried to make something work, "it's easier this way."

"I hear you," Stephen nods, yawns and winces. "You won't get grief from me, but yeah, I'd seriously dig seeing you again," 

"You should lie down, get some rest," Antony says with a smile, starting to push the covers down. "Unless you have somewhere you need to be."

"Is that how it works here then?" Stephen's brows go up. "You play, fuck, sleep?" He shakes his head again in pleased disbelief. "Fucking love it! I'm used to hauling my butt home after sceneing, not crashing out."

Antony laughs, shifting his body so he's under the sheets, the rest pulled out from under Stephen until he can throw them over him too. "That's why you pay the big bucks here," he says with a grin, resting his head on his hand. "One-stop shopping."

"So what now? You want to sleep with me? Cuddle?" Never let it be said Stephen's backward about asking questions. "Fuck some more later?" 

Stephen's still a hard read and who knows, maybe Antony's been spending too much time lately on anonymous fucks outside Citadel where nothing happens after. "All of the above, unless you need to make a getaway."

"Make a getaway? When there's a hot bastard and a bottle of really good scotch on offer?" Stephen snorts, rolling onto his side and folding one arm under his head. "Nah man, I'm here for the whole damned night."


End file.
